Pogos, pots and potions
by Slightly Sinister Sinestra
Summary: Collection of weird little drabbles, beginning with pogo sticks. Just silly. Have fun!
1. Chapter 1

First of a series of drabbles on Howls Moving Castle, book and film. Have fun,y'all!

Disclaimer: We are not Diana Wynne Jones, or Hayao Miyazaki. Go figure.

Chapter One - Of Cliffs and Pogo Sticks

'You saved us, Turnip. Thank you.' Sophie leant in to plant a delicate kiss on the carved turnip mouth. Which was all Turniphead had been waiting for.

A flurry of shifting, flying and crumpling, and the foppish prince bowed before his true love, a tender smile on his lips, and a shifty glance at the creepy old lady with the leer. He eagerly explained his predicament to her, anticipating her sympathy. Unfortunately, the stiff on the floor seemed to garner all her attention, leaving him talking to that sleazy old bag, and the kid.

Jealous as hell, he watched as the rapturous girl threw herself onto the supine wizard, eliciting a cry from the poor fellow as she nearly propelled them of the platform and over the cliff. Gasping, he moved to save her. Howl could fall for all he cared, it'd serve him right, but not Sophie, the beautiful angel who'd broken his curse. Thankfully, his aid wasn't needed. Howl pulled them back from the brink, muttering about idiots and cliffs. The prince glared at him. How dare he call this radiant girl an idiot! How dare he!

Unfortunately, strong as his love for her was, it was obvious that she really did love the poncy wizard, though why he couldn't guess. The others readily accepted this, having known all along. As had he, but a scarecrow can hope, can't he? Ah well.

He found a decent pole, tough pogo stick material. He hadn't spent all that time as a scarecrow for nothing, and was quite talented with a pole. A fact he was determined to make known to Howl.

'Farewell Sophie!' he cried as he set off, blowing a kiss from atop his newly-fashioned pogo. He waved cheerily at the kid, and a touch more hesitantly at the weird old witch. But before he was out of earshot, he called back to Howl, knowing the wizard would hear.

'You take care of her, you hear! 'Cause if you don't, I'll have you know I'm a black belt of pogo, and my stick will make short work of your head! Understand?'

Howl's wave faltered a little, then sped back up with renewed vigour. Flashing a cocky grin, the wizard hollered back.

'Yeah? Well I'm a black belt at Origami, so there! Bring it, pogo boy!'

His angel shook her head in exasperation. Buoyantly happy, the prince hopped back, to stop a war, and plot the retrieval of his true love. All's fair in love and war, as they say. Howl was going _down_!

Silly little drabble. Next up, the dreaded hair problems. Slime, anyone?


	2. Chapter 2

Sorry this took so long, ladies and gentlemen. We had a few other projects that demanded attention. But we're here now. So enjoy! Michael's revenge! Events based on book, ie involving the two Letties. We give you:

Chapter 2: _My _Lettie!

_"Last night I wished you'd dyed his hair _blue_! When Howl said 'Lettie Hatter' I even thought of dyeing him blue myself!"_

Michael, Chapter 7, Howl's Moving Castle.

Michael was horrified, furious, heartsore. What a night! When Howl threw his fit, Michael'd never been so scared. He'd thought the man was dying, or something! And then Sophie calmed Howl down, and coaxed Lettie's name out of him, and Michael had abruptly wished the bastard _had_ died. Lettie! _His _Lettie, in the arms of this ... this foppish, prancing, snotty _playboy_ of a wizard! It was too much to bear.

How could Lettie even look at Howl? She was so sweet, and shrewd and understanding, how could she fall for Howl's falsehoods? But she hadn't. That's right. Howl had said it wasn't working, that Lettie'd said there was another man. That could be him! That _had_ to be him! Of course. Lettie was far too smart to fall for Howl's charade. Come to think of it, she was awfully like Sophie in that regard. So that was alright, then.

Except Howl wouldn't give up. He never did until he'd gotten the girl. He'd keep trying for Lettie, keep setting his wandering eyes on her sweet face, keep trying to get his hands on her. It was _not_ going to continue! Not if Michael had anything to do with it! Now if only he could just get Sophie's help ...

The next night, Michael had it all set up. After running to Lettie, and finding out that she hadn't even seen Howl, he'd almost reconsidered. But no. Howl had it coming, if for nothing else than giving him a heartattack the night before. His plan would go ahead, just as he and Sophie had decided.

There were times when Sophie could be quite intimidating herself. When Michael had explained himself, she'd gone all thoughtful and grim. Then this weird spark had appeared in her eye, something wicked and mischievious, and Michael had briefly wondered if getting his revenge was worth unleashing Sophie on an unsuspecting populace. But what's done was done, he supposed. It was too late now.

Howl wandered in, all innocent and unprepared, that playful smirk on his face. Michael ground his teeth, suddenly sure that their plan was right. As usual, as soon as he came in, Howl ordered up his bath, and disappeared upstairs into the steam. Michael glanced across at Sophie, saw her sly grin. The trap was well and truly set.

Apprehensive, excited, they waited for the explosion. It didn't take long. That powder Michael had mixed up was fairly potent, and the dye had flooded into the bath with the first turn of the shiny taps that Sophie, completely harmlessly and with no ill intent whatsoever, had polished that afternoon. Howl had been immersed in the water for all of ten minutes when he noticed the change.

His ... hah! ... _howl_ of horror shook the castle. This was beyond ginger hair. This was beyond cut suits. This was beyond any revenge anyone had ever inacted on the wizard, a diabolical scheme that even the Witch of the Wastes would have been proud of.

Michael and Sophie gazed in unabashed evil delight at the distraught apparition the appeared at the head of the stairs, wailing his head off.

Howl was a lurid, bright blue. All over. The skintone went rather well with his eyes, Michael thought. Whether Howl himself could think anything beyond the mindnumbing horror was debatable. Michael joined in Sophie's smirk, with considerable pleasure.

Job well done. Lettie was _his_! Howl had better remember that!

Well? It's a bit longer than the first, and based off the book, not the film. But it was a priceless scene, either way. Hope you enjoyed. R&R?


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